


Christmas in Tadfield

by SentientBentley



Series: Christmas in Tadfield [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Crowley Being a Bastard (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, Trauma, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28296645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SentientBentley/pseuds/SentientBentley
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley travel to Tadfield to spend Christmas with Anathema, Newt, and The Them. Crowley hasn’t let go of the suspicion that Hell could still be on his tail. Aziraphale is determined to have a good time. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
Relationships: Anathema Device & Newton Pulsifer, Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Christmas in Tadfield [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029840
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21
Collections: Ineffable Holiday 2020, Make the Yuletide Gay 2020





	1. The Drive Down

**Author's Note:**

> **UPDATED with a different battle scene and an epilogue! (please see beginning chapter notes for [Chapter 6](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28296645/chapters/69338100))**
> 
> This is for the following prompts and collections:  
> "Found family" for Our Side Yule  
> "Christmas Eve" in Ineffable Holiday 2020
> 
> This is the sequel to [‘Snowdrops & Mistletoe’](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27749191/chapters/67922680), so please read that first for context!  
> Chapter 6 updated with a TW for (technically a flashback) of verbal and mental abuse; mention of physical abuse but no description; causation of psychological distress.  
> Other CWs for mention of Crowley’s PTSD, including alcoholism.  
> Some suggestive content (just Aziraphale’s NSFW thoughts, lol, bastard angel), but no actual sex.  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is excited to travel to Tadfield again, but Crowley isn’t feeling it, despite having agreed to it. What if no one wants to talk to him?

Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice Crowley’s white-knuckle grip on the Bentley’s steering wheel. “Darling”, he coaxed, an eyebrow raised, “I know we don’t have the best memories of being in Tadfield…the--the air base. But, everyone wants to see you--”

“--Doesn’t mean I _like_ them”, Crowley scowled.

Aziraphale sighed. “Oh, hush. You’re just being silly. I thought you wanted to do this--”

“--No, _you_ do.”

Stunned silence. _Oh, my. He’s doing it again._ Aziraphale straightened, his prim mouth in a slight grimace.

“Must you be so difficult? As I’ve said, they’re all excited to see us”.

Crowley said nothing.

Aziraphale could sense a different kind of tension underneath: Crowley was obviously just nervous. It would be his first _real_ Christmas, with a _real_ family, and he wasn’t sure how it would go. Crowley always got defensive when he was nervous. Understandable, but he also just _wasn’t listening_ , and Aziraphale was only trying to help him.

“Well, you can’t beat the country in the winter. And I’m sure our cottage will be lovely”, the angel offered. He had rented a quaint cottage for them near Anathema and Newt’s Jasmine cottage, just down the road. Crowley had grumbled that it was “lame”, because of the rustic decor, but Aziraphale honestly didn’t know what he expected. He’d made it clear he didn’t want Crowley snapping away the decor (or the exterior) to make it all modern and sleek. The cheek of it..! The townspeople would surely give them looks if the exterior changed (plus, how to explain it? That they had paid for an accelerated version of _Build a New Life in the Country?_ ), and Crowley would just complain more about them being harassed, and would ask to go home. Or worse, he would act like he had not too long ago, passive-aggressively, snapping at people and/or breaking things to mess with them.

No, that had thankfully stopped once he and Crowley had talked at the demon’s flat, Crowley having passed out drunk and Aziraphale reviving him. It had been delightful not just to talk, but to _kiss_ him, to be _held by_ him. There was a quiet power in it, Aziraphale had sensed, that had been simmering for six thousand years. And they were just getting started. He wanted to talk with Crowley more about it, but he was going to have to work at that, it seemed, as the demon was relapsing into recalcitrance.

_I haven’t made him do this against his will, for Heaven’s sake. He wanted to come here. He can’t go back on it now._

Crowley kept looking in the rearview mirror, despite himself. _Hastur won’t be there...that wasn’t him...you just imagined it._ He shook his head, returning to reality. Aziraphale was asking him if he was going to be grumpy the entire time they were in Tadfield.

“Dunno. Depends on how ugly this cottage is”. He frowned. He knew he was acting terse and flippant, and that it was upsetting the angel. But he didn’t know how else to act right now. He was so _tense_ \--for Satan’s sake, what if the Tadfield group didn’t want to see him? What if Book Girl was still mad at him for ‘stealing’ her book…? What if Adam was mad at him for suggesting Aziraphale _shoot him?_ But, they had inspired him in the end and saved the world...Adam was a good person. Crowley would never be that, despite the fact that Aziraphale had apparently always thought that he _already was._


	2. Getting Settled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley doesn’t like the cottage that Aziraphale has rented for them in Tadfield, and doesn’t hesitate to make his opinions known. Later, Aziraphale and Crowley attend a Christmas party at Jasmine Cottage, where Crowley is—not-so-surprisingly--anything but merry.

Crowley was right--the cottage was hideous, although the word that Aziraphale chose to use was “charming”. It sat on a small hill overlooking the village, all thatched roof and rustic colours. _Not ‘village witch’ at all, Crowley thought. Wonder if Book Girl gets that a lot...but if she does, she’s brought it on herself living in a cottage like that_...he chuckled to himself.

“What’s so funny..?” Aziraphale looked at him quizzically as they lifted their luggage out of the boot of the Bentley. “Nothing; just, I suppose I should be glad it’s not purple”, Crowley muttered.

He heard Aziraphale sigh ahead of him in the hallway, and smirked. “...Which room do you want…” Aziraphale said shakily as he checked out the upstairs. “I mean...because--”

“It doesn’t matter to me. Wherever you’re most comfortable, angel”.

 _I would be most comfortable in your arms...but…I know we’re not there yet, and I don’t want to rush things..._ Aziraphale picked a bedroom before Crowley could see him begin to blush and sweat.

***

_Later that evening…_

Anathema opened the front door to Jasmine Cottage, excited (something she’d never thought she’d be, about them) to see the Book Thieves on the new-and-improved doorstep. She had taken off the horseshoe charm after the ApocaFail, or whatever they were calling it, so Crowley could get in.

“You two have any more books you need to return?” she chided, putting on her best serious face.

“Yes”, Crowley cut off Aziraphale’s inevitable confusion, “it’s called _How to Ride a Bike Responsibly at Night_ ”.

Anathema raised an eyebrow, smiling knowingly, letting them in the door. She said calmly, “Oh no, I already have a copy. I also have one you might be interested in, it’s called How to Avoid Hitting Cyclists”. She gave Crowley her best too-bad-I-beat-you face. “Oh”, Crowley continued, both eyebrows raised now, “listen here, Book Girl, it was _you_ who hit _me_ \--”

“--Why don’t we see what there is to drink”, Aziraphale said politely, grabbing Crowley’s arm and moving him toward the kitchen, away from a smirking Anathema. “You don’t need to be rude..!” he whispered.

“I’m not being _rude_ , I’m just playing along. It’s not my fault you don’t understand sarcasm”, Crowley shrugged. “Besides, she _started_ it”.

Aziraphale was about to say, “Here we go again”, but thought better of it. “Why don’t you have some wine”, he offered. “Look, they’ve got...um…”

“They’ve got basic options here”, Crowley frowned, miracling some Châteauneuf du Pape quickly. “There, now it’s a party”.  
As frustrated as Aziraphale was right now, it always melted away whenever Crowley grinned like he was right now, that _complete_ bastard. He found himself staring helplessly at Crowley’s lean frame, propped up against the counter, shoulders and hips tilted lazily, legs crossed, those sumptuous lips gracing the wine glass... _Oh, how I want to be that wine glass right now..._

“Hi!!” Newt greeted them in the kitchen, interrupting Aziraphale’s fantasy, from which he was very noticeably blushing.  
“Hi”, Crowley said flatly, ignoring Aziraphale just then to go for insulting Newt. “Your wine wasn’t good enough, so we fixed ourselves a better one--”he stopped once Aziraphale shot him an agitated _shut-up-now-or-I’ll-never-talk-to-you-again_ look.  
“--Oh”, Newt assumed it was some sort of joke, eyes wide behind his slightly-crooked glasses. “Well, listen, thanks so much for coming! We’re so glad to have you. Would you believe, the party almost didn’t happen because I about blew the circuits when I tried to print the invitations!”

“Surprising”, Crowley raised an eyebrow and took another sip of his wine. _So_ surprising, based on what Anathema had told him.

“Did you know”, Newt was still going, ignoring Crowley’s jabs, “I almost went to that paintball shenanigan that you were telling us about, at Tadfield Manor. I worked for the company that was holding that team-building exercise, Worldwide Holdings. Well, for a short time, that is…” he frowned, leaning his head to one side.

“Short because you tried to use a computer and blew the place up?” Crowley used another one of Anathema’s anecdotes to fire back. This was too easy.

“--Ah”, Newt chuckled guiltily. “Well, maybe…”

“--A short time because he _shorted out_ the place!” Aziraphale chimed in. “Get it? It’s--”

“That’s exactly it!” Newt exclaimed excitedly.

“--It’s a dad joke. We get it”. Crowley walked away to find Anathema, which he couldn’t believe he was doing, but he didn’t have a choice, given the options. The couple had told them that Adam and his friends would be having breakfast at the Youngs’ tomorrow morning; tonight was the ‘adult party’, and it was past their bedtime.

“How do you deal with it?” Crowley asked Anathema, who had gone to the common room to bring out some more snacks.

“With what?”

He cocked his head towards the kitchen. “With _him_ ”.

She chuckled. “Oh, well, it takes some patience. But it’s worth it”.

Crowley rolled his head impatiently. “I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of patience these days”. 

Anathema raised an eyebrow. “Aziraphale driving you a little crazy?”

“Maybe”. He took another sip of his wine. He could hear Aziraphale and Newt discussing something about 17th-century literature about witchcraft. _Nerds._

“Sometimes”, Anathema offered, “I find it useful to just spend some time alone. Like, go for a walk by myself or something. Clears my head. I did that a lot after we got rid of Agnes’ second book. There was just so much from my ‘professional descendant’ life--” she even made air quotes -- “that I wanted to get off my shoulders”. She straightened her glasses and looked at him. “And I’m willing to bet that you both have _way_ too much drama from the ApocaDon’t or ApocaNope or...whatever it’s called, and you need to figure out how to handle it. Sometimes that might need to happen separately”.

Crowley chuckled quietly. “Try six thousand years of drama”. She was right, though; they’d been spending the majority of their time together. Crowley had thought that it would help after they’d talked, and to some extent it _had_...but he still felt stifled a bit, if he was honest with himself. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that Hell was still coming for him, at some point. That maybe it had been Hastur in that vision. But Aziraphale didn’t need to know that.

“Well that explains all the--” she waved her hand around in a circular motion over Crowley, startling him to where he almost spilled his drink --”in your aura”.

“All the _what_ in my _what_?!”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m an intuitive. I can sense people’s auras and the emotions within them. Yours and Aziraphale’s are...different because you’re not human, but you still have emotions and you’re just...all over the place”. She squinted. “Confusion, fear, anger--”

“Oh-KAY!” he pulled away and sauntered towards the front door. “That’s enough, Book Girl. Intuit this: I’m going outside, for a walk, like you suggested..!” She smiled at his adorable grimace. _Not so tough. You’re still taking my advice._ “It’ll work. Then I’ll check your aura when you come back!”

“That’s _if_ I come back, and if I do, I’ll be a snake, and you won’t be able to check it then!” he shot back, disappearing out the door.

“That’s...actually not true”, Anathema muttered to herself, crossing her arms and putting on another knowing smile.

***

“Anathema! Where’s Crowley..?” Aziraphale asked as she re-entered the kitchen to refill drinks and clean up. “He went for a walk. Said he needed to clear his head”. She didn’t seem upset or worried about this. Aziraphale, at first, didn’t want to seem overly worried, but he couldn’t let it go. He had turned his head away from Anathema and this frankly upsetting news, but turned to face her now, his expression hurt. Anathema was afraid he might cry. _Wow, really? This must be what Crowley was talking about._

“Why?”

“Who knows why Crowley does anything?” Anathema flashed an oblivious smile. 

Aziraphale was suspicious. “Well, I need to go find him--”

“--No, that’ll just aggravate him, I think. He said he wanted to be alone”. 

_Acting out even now. He probably wants me to chase him. Well, I’m not going to!_ Aziraphale bit his lip, pouting.

“Listen”, Anathema tried to change the subject, “why don’t we play a game and wait for him to get back, okay?”

“Okay”, Aziraphale said darkly, but he was internally having a breakdown, and made sure to send Crowley a telepathic message. Crowley was going to _hear_ it when they got back home. 

***

Crowley knew he couldn’t stay out here long. His body temperature would change to match the environment, and it was bitingly cold. Still, it was brisk out, and the fresh air felt good. One could actually _see_ the stars from here; he smiled at being able to actually observe his creations. They had been fun to make...he missed _creating_ things. 

_But you won’t take me back, will you? Forgiving, my arse. Only towards the humans._

A message came into his mind then; Aziraphale’s voice.

_What are you doing out there by yourself...how do we know Hell isn’t still after you, from what you said?_

_I--_

Just then he thought he heard a twig snap across the road, on the way back to their cottage. Surely there were animals around here, but….he thought he sensed a familiar energy, somehow. But it was only a flash, a feeling, a scent; not strong enough to really tell him anything. He thought perhaps he was seeing things again. Or, as Aziraphale would put it, that his PTSD had progressed from visual hallucinations, to auditory and olfactory ones. Best not to tell him, unless he wanted another worry session with the angel fussing over him. He smiled weakly. Ironically, Book Girl of all people actually understood what was going on, and had been quite helpful. He turned back towards Jasmine Cottage, a sinking feeling in his gut. 

***

“You know better than to be out by yourself..! It’s so cold out!!” Aziraphale practically yelled as he came back in the door.  
“Shush, angel, I just went up the road and turned back! Get a grip..!”  
Crowley could see Newt and Anathema practically giggling. Satan, this was embarrassing.  
“You left without telling me-- _they_ could have found you!” the angel was not letting up, and great, now Newt and Anathema would be suspicious.  
“--Can I go for a bloody walk?!” It was Crowley who was raising his voice now. “Do you really wanna do this here? Okay, thanks, ‘Dad’, I’ll get my arse to bed now. I’m sorry I came back. Should’ve just gone home”, he growled and turned back to leave, slamming the door. Aziraphale followed him onto the porch, gritting his teeth as he spat, “Do you mean the cottage, or London??!”

“Haven’t decided”. Crowley looked at him with the slightest smile, then then walked briskly off the porch.

Aziraphale’s mouth was agape at that. He tried not to show his tears as he went back inside. “I--I’m very sorry”, he said, turning to Newt and Anathema, whose eyes were wide. “We’ll be back in the morning for breakfast at the Youngs’”. 

“Okay!” Anathema called as Aziraphale left.  
Newt looked dumbfounded. “What’s going on with them…?” Anathema practically rolled her eyes, drinking what was left of her wine. “Lots of things, apparently”. _Including being chased? Targeted? Is this the whole Heaven and Hell thing again? I thought that was done..._  
“Oh”, Newt said sarcastically, “Crowley said that wine is basic; best not to drink it lest we become even more basic than we already are. What’s the next level of basic? Dreadful?”.

“To him, yes. So, drink more of it. Cheers”.


	3. Oh the Drama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has had it with Aziraphale’s babying, but ends up hurting Aziraphale’s feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware--angst ahead!

“Enough! Come out at once. Or I’ll make you!”

Aziraphale’s voice boomed up the stairs, even into the loose floorboard where Crowley was hiding as a snake.

_Nah. I’ll just let you keep yelling...more fun that way…_

“--no reason to be rude to everyone”, Aziraphale was going on, “and to me especially. I cannot believe your attitude, or that you went outside by yourself, knowing how cold it is, and not knowing if Hell is after you or not…” his voice broke off and he was crying now.

_Bloody Hell. Not the waterworks..._

Aziraphale’s eyes followed the curve of the stairs, and of Crowley’s human-again waist, now sauntering down towards him.  
“Angel, don’t be ridiculous. I went for a bloody walk. You can’t keep treating me like a child”. 

This was part of why he’d been hesitant to even tell him his suspicions about Hell in the first place; it was in the angel’s nature to guard and protect.

“B--but you could’ve been hurt!!” Aziraphale stammered.

Crowley thought his heart was going to burst.

“Angel--” he wrapped Aziraphale in a hug as Aziraphale sobbed into his chest, clutching the opening of his shirt. “Shh, honey. I’m fine, okay? I’m right here”. He kissed the angel softly once on his neck, a hand bunching up his soft cherub hair.

“...and you don’t even like this nice cottage that I picked out for us…” Aziraphale blubbered into Crowley’s chest once he was finally able to breathe.

“What?”

“...you _hate_ it, you _said_ so!!” Aziraphale wailed.

“--I--what? I just don’t like the decor, okay, but that doesn’t mean I hate it. I was just poking fun”.

“B--but I wanted to get us another cottage. For the rest of the winter. But now I’m not going to..!!!” Aziraphale pulled away from Crowley’s embrace, turning his back to him.

“What do you mean? What other cottage…?” Crowley was genuinely confused now.

“In the South Downs. Like we’ve talked about. But--” he crossed his arms and stuck his nose in the air-- “not if you’re going to be like this--!”

“Okay”, Crowley got a tad snarky again, curling his lip, “well, first of all, you accuse me of doing something and not telling you about it--pot’s calling the kettle black there, I’d say--”

“Not the same! It was going to be a surprise. Not pulling away to try to prove a point”.

Crowley sighed; he was honestly done. He didn’t have any more energy to argue about the walk, about how he felt the angel was smothering him, because right now Aziraphale _clearly_ felt he was in the right about everything. If he gave in now, he would essentially be forfeiting his right to take time for himself. 

“What--” he shook his head, heading back up the stairs. “What _is_ it with you and bloody cottages--? Satan forbid you get a nice hotel or a penthouse--!” he stormed up the stairs.


	4. Christmas Eve Morning at The Youngs'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley have breakfast at the Youngs’, but an unexpected visitor arrives with a sobering message.

“Mr. Fell! Mr. Crowley!”  
Crowley saw Aziraphale’s smile light up as Adam called to them from his backyard.  
“I’m so glad you’re here..!” Adam threw himself at Aziraphale in a warm hug. A part of Crowley wanted to melt at that. Adam ran over to him, clutching at his knees.

“Hey, kiddo. How ya been..?”.

“Great. Came up with a new game for Brian, Pepper, and Wensleydale…’s called ‘angels and demons’. Y’have to guess who’s who. Tougher than they’d thought!” He was clearly proud of himself.

“Wow, that’s...great...”

_He seems fine...doesn’t seem mad at us...he’s inspired by us, even_...Crowley let it go for now.  
“Listen”, Adam nearly whispered, “my parents don’t know what you are, okay? They just think you’re these nice men who helped me and my friends at the airbase. Well, that bit is technically true”. 

Aziraphale looked smugly at Crowley. _See? I told you; nothing to worry about._

“You should come inside!” Adam encouraged. “Mum and dad have made tea and breakfast!” 

Deirdre and Arthur Young were in the kitchen preparing tea and crumpets. Crowley had to stifle a giggle at what Adam had told them. So long as the Youngs didn’t ask for details, they’d be fine. Although worst-case scenario, they _could_ hypnotise them to forget what they’d learned. But, better keep the frivolous miracles to a minimum, just to be on the safe side. He scowled at that.

***

There was one point at which Adam’s eyes glistened. “I really do have to thank you, you know. I didn’t know I could do that with my powers...y’know...change reality...you told me I could face him. You _believed_ in me”.  
Aziraphale’s eyes watered at that. He smiled a sweet, cherubic smile, which inevitably made Crowley’s eyes water in turn.  
Adam continued. “You said that no matter what, you were beside me. And that meant the world, literally”. Aziraphale wiped his eyes; Crowley smiled through trembling lips.

***

Later, there came a knock at the door.  
“Wonder who that could be!” Arthur said cheerfully. “I didn’t think we were expecting anybody else, but can’t complain about more company--” In the common room, Crowley stiffened.

Arthur had spoken too soon. 

R.P. Tyler’s face was grim, more so than usual.

“Mr. Tyler…” Arthur knew Adam hadn’t done anything. What in the world…?

“Young! Can I come in? I’m popping by everyone’s door with an _important announcement_ ”. 

Arthur had an idea of what would happen if he didn’t let him in, and disputed the ‘important’ status of whatever this announcement was, but he kept that bit to himself.

“Tea?” Deirdre called from the kitchen.

“No, I won’t be long.

Something very serious is happening in our town”, Mr. Tyler announced, looking around the common room at everyone present. “I’ve seen homeless folk about! Ruffians...” 

“--where?” Arthur asked sceptically, his bored expression not changing.

“All about”, Mr. Tyler went on, waving his hand about. “Jus’ sittin’ about, lurkin’! The cheek of it! In _our town_ \--”

Pepper rolled her eyes and looked at Adam, muttering, “Probably just drunk Oxford students. That’s what it was last time…” Adam shrugged.

\--”we need to do something about it! So just, if you see them, call the police!” he gave everyone one last glare before storming out of the house.

“--Okay…” Adam groaned, then grew suddenly worried as he looked over at Crowley. “Oh, Mr. Crowley, are you alright..?”

Crowley had a white-knuckled grip on his tea mug, growling softly to himself, twitching. 

Anathema pulled Aziraphale aside, into the kitchen. “When you said the other night, about him being _chased_ by something…you don’t think...”

“I...I don’t know”, Aziraphale wrung his hands. “I haven’t _sensed_ anything, and I know I would sense--”

“I haven’t either”, Anathema said, looking away, suddenly thinking back to the feeling of not having been able to sense Adam’s aura. Aziraphale had let her know after the air base that he and Crowley had had trouble sensing it too, and that for ethereal and occult beings, it had apparently been cloaked. Neither she nor Aziraphale was sure of the reason why she hadn’t been able to, though; Aziraphale had thought that humans should have been able to sense him.

“Do you think it’s cloaked or hidden in some way? And what are we talking about, exactly..?” 

Aziraphale gulped, looking nervously back up at Anathema. 

“Demons”.

Anathema raised an eyebrow. “Is this because of what happened with Sa--”

“Shh!” He looked toward the common room to make sure no one had heard. “That’s part of it…”

Anathema looked back into the common room at Crowley, who was still shaking. Newt and Adam were trying to steady him, Adam keeping a hand on his before his tea spilled. “Well, something R.P. Tyler said has him spooked, that’s for sure”. 

“I have a question for you”, Aziraphale asked Crowley after pulling him into the kitchen. “When you were out for that walk last night--”  
Crowley put up his hands. “--No, not this again--”  
“Just, hear me out on this. Do we have reason to believe that what Mr. Tyler’s saying pertains to... _them?_ ”  
“Dunno”, said Crowley, grimacing. “I did hear something when I was out there--or I thought I did--but it was like, really faint, and I couldn’t sense them”.  


“Yes, well neither have we. We think they might be...cloaked somehow. Maybe like Adam was to supernatural beings...but maybe also to humans”, Anathema said.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. That would be a new thing, at least that he had heard of during his time with Hell. But it wasn’t a surprise when they never told you everything.

“Look, I still have my instruments. We could go up on the hill and try them out; they’ll hit different corners of the woods and the town. We can see if there’s a sampling of anything we can possibly get, since we’re not sure if they’re cloaked yet or not, or how much. And we’ll be overlooking the town, so maybe we’ll be able to see them…’lurking’...in the streets”. 

“ _Lurking_ ”, Crowley spat, “that _word_ …”

“Is that what did it”, Aziraphale said. “Well, lurking _is_ accurate for what demons do…” he glared at Crowley, who had already turned his head away. That wily serpent was going to have to explain himself later. The fact that he’d heard something potentially suspicious while on his walk, and hadn’t told Aziraphale, said something indeed. Aziraphale frowned.


	5. The Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anathema and the gang head up the hill to investigate. Is there really something there, or are they just being paranoid?

Winter evenings in Tadfield, Adam was keen to point out to Aziraphale and Crowley, meant creamsicle sunsets and glistening ice cream hills of snow. Crowley was working his jaw, trying not to tell Adam and Anathema he hated snow, and now walking after the crap Aziraphale had given him, but Anathema had insisted they go up the hill by the Youngs’ house. Perhaps Anathema’s ‘instruments’--whatever those were--would work, and it would be nothing. Or, it would be _something_ , and--and then what? Had he planned for this? _No, of course not, you bloody idiot. You never plan for anything. Useless fool. Why does Aziraphale even care about you? Why are these humans even friends with you?_ He growled under his breath.

“Everything alright, dear?” Aziraphale stopped on the hill, the smoke from the chimneys in the distance offering a pair of makeshift wings behind him. “Yep”, Crowley said. “‘M fine”.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, glaring at Crowley suspiciously, but said nothing. He was so tired of this now, honestly. The demon could be in danger, and he wouldn’t have known, if Crowley hadn’t said anything. _And he wouldn’t have, if Anathema hadn’t..!_ The absolute cheek of it! But he let it go for now, so they could concentrate on this trek. If Anathema was right, it could mean saving Crowley.

_And why are you trusting a human now? You should have sensed them, thought up a plan to save him yourself. You’re failing him. No, but Anathema had the book last time, which he’d used to work out where Adam was in the first place…_

He shook his head. No use arguing with himself now. There could be, as Anathema had suggested, a cloaking spell in place.

***

“It’s just up here”, Anathema called out.  
Newt stopped on the hill, huffing and puffing. “I can’t….it’s too high”.  
“S’no problem for me!” Brian whizzed by Newt. “Wimp!”  
“If you don’t stop that”, Newt called out, “you’ll bowl me over, and I’m going to fall _all the way down this hill_ , and you’ll be sorry--”  
“Enough, stop being overdramatic”, Anathema said. “You’re holding everyone up. Thought it was only your car that did that”.  
“What?!”  
“Wellll”, Crowley drawled, coming up behind him, “my car wouldn’t have held anyone up….just need a road on this hill…”  
“Right, so why don’t you make one”, Anathema chided.  
Crowley frowned. “Promised I wouldn’t do any frivolous miracles, you know, don’t wanna scare the townspeople…” he trailed off, pursing his lips as Aziraphale gave him a warning look.

“Okay then. I don’t want to hear any more from anyone”. She put her hands on her hips, gazing sternly out the ragtag crew she’d assembled atop the hill. “We’re here, let’s get started”.


	6. Lurkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some very unwelcome visitors to Tadfield arrive to get their prize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been updated and now has a TW for (technically a flashback) of verbal and mental abuse; mention of physical abuse but no description; causation of psychological distress.

The sun blazed a menacing red, disrupting the previous candy-coloured sky they’d been enjoying. Crowley noticed shadows had begun to fall, growing tall in the clearing, imaginary claws outstretched towards him. _No, please...don’t let it be true…_

“Darling..?” Aziraphale’s hand was on his shoulder. Crowley sighed. “Let’s get this over with. Then we can all go back in for hot cocoa. Hopefully it’s nothing”.

He pulled away from Aziraphale and sauntered toward the middle of the clearing, where Anathema was carefully assembling her instruments. “There, now...almost….got it”, she said, positioning the theodolite on a nearby rock, and holding up a pendulum. 

“Ready”.

Crowley gulped.

Anathema swung the pendulum.

“...I still don’t know how all this works…” Newt said nervously. “I just...stay out of it…I’m afraid I’ll make things go all haywire if I get too close, like with computers...”

Aziraphale had to admit he was skeptical of such things. After all, human means of measuring things--especially the supernatural--were, in his experience, paltry attempts at best. But did he have a choice? None of them could sense Hell, if they were indeed there. And he trusted Anathema, even if he found the tools’ abilities dubious.

“I’ve got…” Anathema was closing her eyes. …”something”. 

“Something, indeed”, rasped a voice that sounded as if it were _right behind her._

Anathema turned around, and screamed.

***

“Looking for us?” A tall, black-eyed, blond demon, and a smaller one with -- bunny ears? -- had _somehow_ appeared right in front of her...when? The second she’d turned her back?

“We’re looking for…” the tall one pointed a grimy finger in Crowley’s direction. “Him”. 

“Really?” Anathema retorted, recovering from the surprise. “Too bad”.  
Before the demons could react, she shot a blue wave of protective auric energy to cover herself and her friends, warbling, pulsing.

Hastur sneered. “Oh, a lovely trick. But it won’t last”.

“Try me”.

“This is stupid”, Pepper whispered to Adam. “Look, that one has bunny ears”.

“Yeah, what sort of demon is that, anyhow?” Brian said, loud enough for them to hear. “Looks like the Easter Bunny--”

“Actually, my mum says the Easter Bunny doesn’t exist--” Wensleydale chimed in. 

“--point is, demons can’t hurt us. They’ve tried before”, Adam said, anger growing. He was honestly so _tired_ of having to fight demons.

“Do you really want to test that?” Hastur growled.

“You're not going to do anythin’”, Adam sneered. “We’re not afraid of you. We defeated the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse, anyhow”.

“Adam, don’t test them!” Aziraphale had, of course, remembered to bring his flaming sword. For once. He noticed Crowley was trying to conceal a fireball at his side. “We can handle it!”

“Oh, like you _handled_ Satan? Last I heard, this _runt_ had to do it for you”, Hastur nodded toward Adam. “He’s got more courage than you’ll ever have”. Nodding toward Crowley, he sneered to Eric, “get him”. He snapped and Anathema’s shield collapsed, sending her reeling to the ground.

“Anathema!” Newt rushed to her side. She was breathing, just a little stunned…he moved them behind a tree.

Eric was confused at Hastur’s request. _Wait...we haven’t discussed this..._ he thought, dumbfounded. _I’m not….I haven’t….actually hurt anyone...in fact it’s always us, the Disposables, who up getting hurt…_ he froze.

“What are you waiting for?!” Hastur shouted.

_...especially not him. He’s a legend Downstairs, inventing all that stuff...so cool....and escaping Satan? I wish!_

“...no”. Eric was firm. “That’s the demon Crowley. He’s a genius. A legend Downstairs, he is. We ‘ave a sor’ of...fan club down there. An’ any’ow, isn’t my job description a Disposable Demon? Maybe I should tell The Big Man Himself that you’re askin’ me to act outside of my job description..!” he stuck his nose in the air.

“You wouldn’t--” Hastur began, but Eric had moved to join Crowley and Aziraphale. “--you won’t kill me like you always do the others”, Eric said, “because you’re bluffing. You need him alive”.

“--You--!” Hastur ran towards Eric, who balked, not seeing Crowley pull a vial of Holy Water out and dangle it above his own head.

“You know what this is?”

“Not this again--”

“--Bunny Ears there’s right, you need me. Want me to use it..?” He moved to open the cap. 

“CROWLEY, NO!!” Aziraphale shouted. Oh, how had he not seen this? The demon had snuck it in? How long had he had it? Oh, it was his own fault for giving it to him….but surely he wasn’t really--last time he’d used it on the demons--  
He saw Crowley pop the vial--no--it couldn’t be. This wasn’t happening. _Was this the real reason he’d been so off lately?_ Every fibre of his being instructed him to drop the sword and run towards him. Run? No. Fly. He was _flying_ , gliding toward Crowley, if he could just reach down and snatch the vial away—then he’d destroy the demons himself--  
But before he could reach him, he saw Crowley toss the Holy Water in Hastur’s direction. The whole thing seemed to happen in slow motion. Hastur’s face registered terror as the vial swept toward him—but it was veering off-course. _It’s not going to work…_

Just then, a voice from the side of the hill yelled, “Hey frog-head! Drink this!” It was Anathema, having recovered and now generating a new energy blast to force the vial in his direction.

But Hastur was quicker, and jumped out of the way, yelping. But still: “You won’t get me wi’ that. Not like you destroyed Ligur. I know what _you_ deserve”.

“Yeah, you’ve always known”, Crowley needed to play it cool. It was time for Plan B. He wasn’t usually the type of person who thought past Plan A, but he’d learned a thing or two since Hastur and Ligur had first come after him. He couldn’t afford to simply improvise anymore. 

_What are you doing, you idiot_ …Aziraphale wanted to trust Crowley. He landed behind the trees, listening, while every once of his celestial being wanted to have a go at Hastur and just be done with it. _But Hell could retaliate against you, then, too. They haven’t figured out the body swap yet, at least, that we know…but a blatant murder of one of their own by an angel…it would be too obvious. And then Crowley would be in even more danger, and it would be_ your _fault._ He felt hot tears begin to stream down his face.

“Wha’d’you mean?” Aziraphale heard Hastur say. He sounded confused now. _Good_ , thought Crowley. _I need him to be just a little confused right now._ “I mean”, said Crowley, you’ve never hesitated to tell me _exactly_ what you thought about me”.

“What’s he doing--?” Anathema looked at Newt, who shrugged.

“Oh?”, Ligur sneered. “Well, I s’pose you’re right. It’s so you knew your place with me an’ Lord Beelzebub. But it apparently didn’t take”.

“No”, said Crowley, “but it’s still all in here”, he tapped his temple. “As in, six thousand years’ worth of insults, intimidation, shaming, et cetera… _so much_. I think I need to shift the weight a little”.

Hastur cackled; a disturbing, throaty laugh. “I didn’t come all the way up here to give you a therapy session, you pathetic freak. Now, hold still—” he held out his arm, palm toward Crowley, cocking his head. “This is going to hurt”.

“Not as much as this will”. Crowley held his hands to the sides of his head, grunting at the energy shifting out, and Anathema saw a pitch-black wave of energy flow from him into Hastur. “What’s going on?!” Newt was ready to bolt. “Shh- some kind of energy transfer. Kids—stay back”.

The Them gathered around Anathema and Newt, behind the trees. Eric and Aziraphale moved to join them.  
Anathema could see the dark energy infecting Hastur somehow, who seemed to have no idea what was going on. He was slowly turning black himself. “No…wha—?” Hastur suddenly felt a separation, a loneliness creeping in that even he hadn’t experienced before…the pain of six thousand years of his own abuse towards Crowley, reflected back at him. Every ounce of inadequacy, of shame, of physical and emotional turmoil came to a head all at once. He could hear his own voice yelling in his head, feeling his own insults, the emptiness overtaking his mind and body.  
_You’re nothing. You’re a pathetic excuse for a demon, a waste of space, a disappointment, a runt…you deserve destruction. And you’ll wish you had it when I’m through with you._  
Hastur screamed, writhing in anguish, disappearing through the Earth back to Hell. 

***

“Blimey”, said Eric. “How did you—and where did you get Holy Water--” Aziraphale gave them both admonishing looks. “--oh, yeah. Well--”

“I have no idea what just happened there. But YOU DIDN’T TELL ME about the Holy Water!!!” Aziraphale was shouting as he landed. “You had the--you could’ve--”  
“Simmer down, angel, I had multiple plans this time—"  
“—that you didn’t tell anyone about!”  
“—Because I knew you would’ve tried to stop me!”  
“No”, Aziraphale said through gritted teeth, “I would have tried to finish him myself, you know that”.  
“That isn’t your job”.  
“Enough!” Anathema called from across the meadow. “You two have literally been arguing the entire time you’ve been here. Crowley just saved us, okay? That demon’s defeated for now. So why don’t you cool it? Everyone’s hungry, let’s get dinner made”. She walked down the hill, shrugging off the whole ordeal with the demons as if they had been a mere annoyance.

Newt opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t, except: “I--I’m following her”.

Crowley also ran after Anathema. “Wait—thanks—thanks for helping. Your aim was better than mine…”  
Anathema’s dark eyes were stern; haunted by something, but he couldn’t tell what.  
“Don’t thank me. I didn’t succeed. I’d say your second plan mostly did. Is he--?”  
Crowley’s voice was low. “No, destruction would’ve been too kind for him. Better to let him suffer. It won’t be for eternity, though. He’ll find a way out, eventually”. He didn’t know when, only that it was possible.

“That was lame. Except for Anathema. Not sure what happened at the end there”, Adam said. “But no fire or anythin’. Just like the nuclear stations that weren’t bubblin’”.  
“I told you it was stupid”, Pepper was rolling her eyes.  
“Actually, it’s a good thing there wasn’t any fire, or else we could’ve been burned—” started Wensleydale.  
“Anathema has the right idea”, said Brian, ignoring them all and starting down the hill. “Come on, I’m starving!”  
Pepper rolled her eyes. “You’re _always_ starving”.

Eric stopped on the hill. “Sorry, but...what about me?”  
“Right...what are we gonna do with you, then?” Crowley lowered his glasses at Eric.  
“Well, I...I’ve got nowhere to go, I guess…”, Eric shrugged. “But they--they’ll be out to get me…”  
“Welcome to the club”, said Crowley. “Come on then, why don’t you join us for dinner?”  
“Oh! Y--y’mean it?”  
Crowley smirked. “No, it was a joke”.  
Anathema frowned. “Crowley--”  
“Kidding. _That_ was a joke”.  
_He’s confusing_ , Eric thought. Then: _I must remember to get his autograph._


	7. Disposable No More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric enjoys Christmas Eve dinner with everyone. The group exchange gifts on Christmas morning.

“Thanks so much for including me…” Eric still couldn’t believe it. He was feeling a bit out of control, still in disbelief about what he’d done, but simultaneously letting the elation of it wash over him.

Anathema and Newt were serving turkey with roast potatoes and gravy, and Yorkshire pudding to boot. Eric didn’t know how to have an appetite, although Crowley had said it was possible: _You can will it._ It was something Eric was going to have to learn. 

“So, Eric”, Anathema was saying, “what will you do now?”

“Well”, he thought for a minute. “I’ve always wanted to be one o’them fashion models, you know...get to wear all the flashy clothes and stuff…”

Aziraphale grimaced at Crowley. “What? I had nothing to do with it”. The angel rolled his eyes.

***

The next morning, Aziraphale’s tender hands moved over Crowley’s before the angel attempted to open the demon’s gift to him. Eric, Anathema, Newt, and The Them were seated around the Christmas tree, which sparkled with white candles and gold and silver tinsel. Aziraphale gasped to find a ultra-rare book collection on the finest foods known around the world, throughout history, in mint condition. He’d been trying to get his hands on this one. His eyes watered.

“Oh, my love…”

Crowley’s fingers stroked his hair. “I knew you would like it”.

“I do hope you enjoy my present”, Aziraphale said nervously. Crowley scowled at him like, _Why wouldn’t I? Don’t be silly._

Crowley’s slender fingers opened the sleek black box with satin red ribbon to find a gorgeous necklace made from onyx, a snakeskin pattern carved into it. He gasped. “Angel…”

“If you turn it in the light”, Aziraphale said, “you can see the rubies”.

Crowley gasped again as the light revealed glittering pockets of red in between the onyx segments. His lip trembled.

“See, it just needs a little light to reveal all the beauty that was already there”, Aziraphale said pointedly.

“Merry Christmas, dear”, he said, smiling at him through the tears.

“Merry Christmas, angel…” Crowley could barely get the words out, pulling him into a tight embrace. Eric, Newt, Anathema, and The Them looked on, beaming.

 _I don’t know what I’ve walked into_ , thought Eric, _but I like it._ He somehow had tears of his own, although he wasn’t at all sure how.


	8. Parting of the Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric heads out on his own adventures; Aziraphale and Crowley head back to London.

Eric couldn’t describe how happy he was. Dinner! With the Demon Crowley! He had about discorporated at the offer. He almost wished he could see the other Disposables, just to tell them. He’d even had Crowley autograph a book for him. Anathema hadn’t minded parting with it. It talked about the customs of Earth in modern times, and had lots of travel photos, so it would help him on his journey. He’d decided to see the world, blend in, hide from them, with Crowley’s cloaking helping. He especially couldn’t believe he’d found a family of his own who wanted to stay in touch and help him at all. How truly lucky he was.

“Now, don’t get into _too_ much trouble”, Crowley was saying, patting him on the shoulder.  
“Just kidding--get into _plenty_ of trouble”.  
Eric smiled shakily, taken by how handsome he was, but being careful to be respectful.  
“It was so great having you, Eric! Take care”, Anathema called.  
“Bye Eric! If the demons come after ya, blow them up with fire!” Adam shouted.  
“Well I, uh...I’ll…see what I can do. Thank you...for everything!” He smiled and looked at the group before vanishing into thin air before them, leaving only the sunset.  


***

“So you see”, Aziraphale was saying later once they were back in Soho, “you do indeed have a family, like I’ve been trying to tell you”. He brought Crowley his tea.  
“Yes”, Crowley drawled, not looking up from his newspaper, “but I was also right about Hell coming after me”.  
“Well, do I wish you would’ve told me about your Holy Water plan. And trusted me to fight them for you--” Aziraphale was still somewhat angry and in disbelief.  
Crowley looked up from the paper, frowning. “--No. I would never want to put in you in their path like that. It’s bad enough you were there anyhow. If they hadn’t been bloody cloaked, I could’ve handled it myself without having to put everyone else in danger”.  
“--Stop that nonsense”, Aziraphale said through clenched teeth.  
“Really, what happened to ‘we’re on our side’? We need to protect each other. And that involves trust. And that couldn’t have been easy for you to pull of that energetic transfer. Admit it”.  
“Of course I _trust_ you, angel; I just don’t _want_ you to be _harmed_!!” Crowley was raising his voice slightly. He sighed. “And yeah, it was tough. Cost me a lot of energy. Need to rest—“  
“Another thing you hid from me”, Aziraphale was struggling to hide his disappointment.

“I _want_ to protect you”, Aziraphale said quietly after a bit. “You’re acting off of six thousand years of instinct, although I’m not innocent of that either. We’ll just have to unlearn it”. He took Crowley’s hand and kissed it. It was going to be painful to unlearn, but they needed to support each other instead of wasting time fighting, he knew. They had already wasted enough time doing that over the years.

After some time, Aziraphale said, “Will Hastur be back--?”  
“Not for a long time, if at all. But that doesn’t mean Lord Beelzebub or someone else won’t”.  
“Well…”, Aziraphale started, “I think …could do with some alone time, you know, to recover, and…work things out and...what is it the humans say...get one the same page. What do you say to the South Downs cottage now?”

“I suppose you’re right”, Crowley said, squeezing Aziraphale’s hand and smiling. “Change of scenery and somewhere quiet might do the trick”. Aziraphale kissed him on the cheek, both of them aglow as the fire crackled.

***

Crowley picked up a fashion magazine as Aziraphale massaged his shoulder. “Hey, wait….look at this”.

There was an advert in the magazine, the model for which looked quite familiar. Crowley gasped. “It’s him, look--he really did it--!”  
Aziraphale looked at the ad. It was for some modern fashion company, and there was Eric, in fancy clothes, with his signature hair and eyelashes.

“So he took my advice after all”, Crowley said.  
“I thought you had nothing to do with that!”  
“Well…maybe a little”, Crowley smiled, his onyx and ruby necklace glinting in the bookshop’s soft light.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Beelzebub evaluates Duke Hastur’s condition and makes a decision.

The Disposable Demon assigned to attend Hastur flinched at hearing the piercing screams from the cell down the hall.

_Why me…_

“Wha’ ‘appened?” he asked Lord Beelzebub upon reaching the cell.

“Psychic attack. Haven’t determined yet who from. But whoever it wazzz--”—they swatted the flies buzzing around their head—"got him right spooked. He’s unfit for duty at the moment”. That last sentence was more like a formal announcement. _Unfit for duty._ The Disposable made a note on his clipboard.

“…Where was he when this ‘appened?”

“Supposed to be retaliating for the treazzzon of the demon Crowley. But that idiot izzzn’t capable of this. Something’zzz wrong. He must’ve had help”.

 _Went to attack Crowley. Something went wrong. Crowley may have help_ , the Disposable scrawled.

“…I see. Well, who’s gonna take his place, then…?”

Lord Beelzebub thought for a moment, then turned to the Disposable, expressionless as usual. “…I have some ideazzz”.

The sound of flies grew to a deafening crescendo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is Lord Beelzebub sending after Crowley next...and when will Heaven come for Aziraphale? This story will be continued in an upcoming South Downs series, which will answer these questions and have a higher rating (😉), so go ahead and hit that subscribe button!


End file.
